


Snark & Sass

by VibraniumHeart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VibraniumHeart/pseuds/VibraniumHeart
Summary: You're partnered with Bucky on a mission and, surprise surprise, things don't go according to plan. This very much uses the trope "there's only one bed and we're gonna share." And this is my attempt at it. It's the first thing I've written in ages (literally I don't even know how long) and it's not perfect but I know if I don't post it now I'll talk myself out of it. So hope y'all enjoy it! Smut. For Raya, who I cannot figure out how to tag just yet.





	Snark & Sass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



To say the mission hadn't gone according to plan would be a gross understatement akin to "Tony Stark has a little money." Having been paired with Bucky was a highlight you were incredibly thankful for, even if it meant you two had been forced to let the quinjet take off without you and trek to the safe-house several miles away. Twigs and leaves crunched beneath your feet while Bucky's steps were eerily silent. How could anyone walk silently through a forest? It just wasn't fair. Especially when that someone was a giant beef-cake of a man with a vibranium arm and more weapons than you could count on both hands strapped to his body. 

"You know," you huff conversationally, far enough away from the aborted base that there's no longer a need to worry about anyone following you, "I think you should take up the eyeliner again. I mean, I know you're real upset about Gene Simmons kicking you outta the band and all..." Bucky cuts you off with a snort, eyebrow raised so high you're surprised it's still attached to his face and not floating off into the atmosphere somewhere, "Doll, it's black camo war paint. An' I've got no clue who the fuck Gene Simmons is." He shakes his head because he knows that you already knew that. You just couldn't help but make references he didn't yet understand. You gasp, hand over your chest in mock offense, "You kiss Mama Steve with that mouth? Lang-uh-wage," you exaggerate with a smirk tugging at your lips.

Bucky doesn't even break stride as he laughs. He's not even remotely breathless from the several mile trek. You're willing to bet he doesn't even feel the subtle burn of overused muscle in his legs yet. Soemtimes you wondered why you were friends with such an incosiderate jerk. He could at least have the decency to pretend to be a little winded. Stupid super soldiers. His signature crooked smirk tugs at his lips. "In Stevie's wet dreams, maybe. Ya know I don't kiss an' tell anyway, Sugar." Blue eyes twinkle as they meet your own and the bastard outright winks like maybe he has been getting it on with Steve behind everyone's backs. However, you know very well it's a joke. When you met Bucky several months back Steve had warned you that he could be silent, surly, moody, tempermental, a downright asshole at times, but when you'd met him you just...clicked. Instant built in best friends. It probably had something to do with your love of pranking Sam or just outright giving him shit. That, and you weren't even a little afraid of the ex-assassin. 

Finally, after several more long minutes of comfortable silence the safehouse is in view. It's more of a rundown looking cabin covered in vines and practically swallowed in the trees around it but it's four walls and a roof so you're not going to complain. They were always stocked with edible food and running water, at the very least, and that was enough for you.

"C'mon, (Y/N), don't make me carry ya the last ten steps." Bucky jogs ahead slightly before turning around to jog backward so he can grin smugly at you. He shoulders open the slightly stuck door once you reach his side, though he sighs dramatically like it took you 70 years to catch up to him. 

Inside the cabin is actually a lot nicer than what the outside would have you believe. At leas the furniture isn't falling apart, and there are vacuum sealed meals with handy expiration dates written on them stocked in the fridge and cupboards. You twist the knob for the sink to be sure there is, in fact, running water. After a few seconds of the pipes groaning clear water falls from the spout and you nearly cry with joy. "Dibs on the shower!......You know, if there is one." 

Other than the cozy living room (which is really just an armchair, a small table and an ottomon), and the kitchen there are only two other rooms. One is, indeed, a bathroom, with a small cramped shower and a couple of towels sealed in plastic bags. The other is the bedroom. Bucky is already leaning against the doorway of the bedroom with a strange look on his face and, if you weren't mistaken, a faint hint of red crawling up the base of his neck. It's hard to tell when you're both covered in a fine layer of dirt though. Your eyes automatically follow the trail of his to find the issue....a single bed in the middle of the room. Sure it's bigger than a twin but, and you're not a math major, it's one less bed than there are bodies in the cabin.

Before you can say anything Bucky clears his throat, "I can take the chair," he offers, mouth drawn into a thin line. Instantly you smack his flesh arm, "I know chivarly is still alive and well with you, Barnes, but we're both adults. I'm not gonna let you sleep in the chair. We can share. It'll be like a sleepover." You shrug. Bucky is your best friend, male or no, so it shouldn't be a big deal to share a bed with him. He barely sleeps as is, so letting him rough it out to sleep in an armchair just seems cruel. 

"(Y/N), really, I can take the damn chair. I hog the covers anyway," He tries to joke, tension obvious in the tic of his jaw. Another smack is delivered to his flesh arm, though he barely flinches. "That's okay, because you're a human furnace anyway. If you even try to sleep in the chair I'll tell Sam you pretend to dislike him so much because you have wet dreams about him." 

His jaw drops at that, eyes comically wide, and you zip off to the shower before he can even think of a witty reply. 

A little over an hour later and both of you have freshly showered, changed into plastic packed pajamas (plaid bottoms and plain white t-shirt for you, plaid bottoms and black tank for Bucky) and clambored onto the bed side by side. Bucky is about as close to "his" edge as he can get, on his back, rigid and stiff, though he closes his eyes immediately and drags in a slow breath.

It's hard not to watch the way his muscles tense and ripple under the skin, like he's itching to get away from you. Taking your own slow breath you slip onto the bed beside him, close enough to touch, though you keep your hands to yourself. "Buckaroo, if you're that disgusted by the idea of sleeping near me we can sleep in shifts." It's meant to sound like a joke, you're sure of it, but it comes out tight and pinched and wounded sounding. His eyes fly open immediately, body rocketing up to face you properly. His eyes are startlingly blue in the dim light of the room. 

"Jesus, Doll, that's not...." He drags a hand over his face, sighs, and keeps his eyes set firmly on the bed between you as he starts again, "I haven't shared a bed with anyone in a long time, 'kay? Not to sleep.....not to..." he clears his throat loudly, "not to anythin'. I jus' don't wanna hurt you." He gestures to the metal arm he still hasn't quite accepted.

At that you roll your eyes, "Steve must be awful offended you kick him out after sex, then." Is your snarky reply as you settle down against the pillows, closing your eyes against the odd feeling twisting at your stomach. "But seriously, you're not gonna hurt me, James." You must be hearing things because it sounds like his breath catches at the sound of his given name. When you glance over at him, though, he's smiling that little crooked grin of his. "Stevie an' I ain't ever been together like that, Doll. I haven't been with anyone like that in a long time."

His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes your stomach roll and twist. Not something you should be feeling with your best friend. You swallow hard and blurt, "So no one night stands then? Not sneaking women out at all hours of the night?" Again you sound way more serious than you think you mean to. Bucky doesn't waver, though you notice a blush crawl up his neck for certain this time. "No, (Y/N), no dames. I know I used to be good with them, what you might call a-ah fuck, what's the word? A player?" His nose crinkles at that, like the new terminology is offensive, "But now?" He shakes his head, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. He doesn't finish his sentence. Instead he swallows hard, shakes his head again. 

The silence weighs heavily between you, until the light of the moon is blocked enough by clouds that it's difficult to make him out now. "Well, you could probably still talk the pants off me." Your throat closes up, heat rushing to your cheeks furiously. That wasn't what you meant to say at all and the truth of it twists your stomach into intricate knots. Dimly you hope he's somehow fallen asleep in the few minutes of silence. Or that you hadn't actually said the words out loud at all. No such luck. You can hear his breath catch half a second before the room floods with light via the small lamp on the nightstand.

Hurriedly you shut your eyes to avoid seeing the look on his face, terrified you've crossed a line. Hell, you know you've crossed a line. One you hadn't even been aware you were walking so closely to. You might have been able to play it off as a joke, if it weren't for the blush you can feel over your cheeks and down your chest. If the line between your eyebrows was gone, or the terrified pinch of your mouth. Bucky can read you like a book, can probably hear your heart hammering in your chest. 

You feel his breath fan over your cheek and struggle against the pressure suddenly behind your eyes. He's probably trying to find the words to let you down easily. To tell you you're like a sister to him, he doesn't see you that way, could never see you that way. "Doll, (Y/N)," your eyes clench shut tighter and you give him the barest shake of your head, "Please, look at me." It's half demand, half plea. When a moment passes and still your eyes are clenched shut he heaves a sigh, brushing the tips of his fingers over your cheek, "Please look at me."

The sincerity and gentleness of his tone forces your eyes open. If he's gonna break your heart the least you could do was look at him, right? Bucky looks startled for a brief moment, surprised you've opened your eyes, before he drags his tongue over his bottom lip sinfully slowly. "Did you mean that?" He asks carefully, eyes locked on your own. The truth surges up from your chest, because you're nothing if not a glutton for punishment. "Yes," you choke out. You watch his Adam's apple bob with a slow swallow, feel his fingertips sweep a loose lock of hair behind your ear. 

It's taken you until now to realize his body is practically on top of yours, his body caging you in against the bed, though the only part of him touching you are his fingertips. "If I....if we..." He sighs heavily, drops his head to bury his face into your collarbone, and you can feel his warm breath scatter over your chest. And fuck if that isn't doing things to you, the simple action alone leaving you wanting. "I don't want just one night with you," he finally says, still hiding his face for a moment. 

Your throat runs dry, brain short circuiting with his confession. Bucky's lips press tenderly to your skin, drag feather-light up your throat and to the shell of your ear. "D'ya want me?" He rasps out, a shudder running through you at the question. "Yes." Instantly his hand slips behind your neck to angle your lips upward and then finally, blessedly, he's kissing you, stealing the breath from your lungs in a kiss that is both tender and ravenous. Slow and heated. Wanting. Teasing. Rough and sweet. 

Slowly your body catches up, fingers slipping into the long midnight strands of his hair as your lips part for his tongue to claim your mouth. He certainly doesn't seem like a man out of practice with how thoroughly wrecked you feel within seconds of his lips finding yours. 

Everything with Bucky has always been easy, natural, and this, you find, is no different. There's no awkward fumblings or uncertainty as he drags the shirt you're wearing up and off to be flung somewhere across the room. He leaves wet, open mouth kisses down your throat as his fingertips circle the around your nipples teasingly. He nips at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a whimper from you. 

"Gonna find all your sweet spots, darlin'. Gonna have you makin' them all night," He swears, dropping his head to circle his tongue around your nipple. Your back arches up into his mouth with a soft cry, "James, please." His hips rock down into the mattress and press hard. 

"Jesus, Doll, I'm tryna take my time with you." He bites your nipple and immediately sucks it into his mouth, tongue soothing the sharp sting of his teeth. "Another time," you pant softly, gripping onto his hair, his shoulders, whatever part of him you can reach, "I promise, you can give me slow whenever you want, as many times, but right now..." You groan and arch up once again when his fingers tease the band of your sleep pants, "Right now I want you. Please, James, I want you." 

His teeth scrape over your hip as he growls, tugging down your sleep pants and underwear in one smooth motion. "You're killing me, baby." He rasps. Before you can force your brain to come up with a reply his mouth is already pressed insistently against your clit, slipping over it in tight circles that have you keening up into the warmth of his mouth.

Bucky's metal arm slams across your hips, forcing them down into the mattress as he abandons your clit to lick a long stripe up your folds. "Let me do this, then you can have me," He promises darkly, flesh hand slipping between your legs to tease your entrance. "Wanna taste you, Doll. Wanna make you cum just like this."

His mouth is back on you in seconds, sucking your clit gently between his lips as two long fingers slip into you and immediately crook into a come-hither motion. How can a man who claims to be out of practice find your gspot in a single swipe? However that miracle happens you're not willing to question it at the moment. Not with the way his mouth is quickly working you into a panting mess. The metal of his arm is slightly cool against your hot skin, effectively pinning your hips to the bed so you can do nothing but lay there and take it.

Instead your fingers wind into the sheets and into his hair, pressing his mouth harder against you between broken whimpers. Bucky moans against your clit as soon as your hands find his hair and his tongue speeds up along with the thrust of his fingers. It would almost be embarrassing, how quickly he brings you to the edge, if not for how fantastic it feels to be ruined by him.

"James," you whine, voice broken and unfamiliar in its pitch to your own ears. "James," you try again, gripping his hair tighter, "I'm gonna cum." Your breath hitches unevenly in your throat, your thighs trembling against the scruff of his jaw. He moans again, rutting softly against the matress as you whimper brokenly, and quickens his pace. 

You're stuck in a soft chant of his name until the pleasure knotting in your stomach bursts and you can feel your thighs shake and your toes curl with the force of it. It renders you silent in your cries, pleasure robbing you of sound for a long and blissful moment before you slowly come back to yourself in time to see Bucky sucking his fingers clean with his eyes locked on yours above you. With shaking fingers you drag him up to kiss you, still trembling thighs wrapping around his hips to draw him into you. 

Impatiently you begin yanking at the black tank top he's wearing while rutting your hips upward into the obvious bulge in his sleep pants. You're delighted when he whimpers and clings to your hips, rendered just as helpless as he made you with the simple motion. You would probably feel smug if you weren't so desperate to have him inside of you, right this second. Somehow between the two of you his tank top is finally removed and his bottoms shoved down to his ankles and off the end of the bed.

There's a few despearte seconds where you both readjust, too eager to be slow and sensual, before he's pushing into your tight pussy. Bucky's head drops to the crook of your neck to place more open mouthed kisses there between soft groans of your name. "You feel so good," He gasps, grinding his hips into yours in slow, tight circles, "Fuck, so good." He stills suddenly, trembling atop you, to press tender kisses to your lips. His eyes find yours, bright and vulnerable as he nibbles at his own lip. "Stay still," He begs, blush blossoming down his neck once more.

Your fingers find his hair to pull him closer and kiss a line up his throat as he did yours. "James, it's okay. Let go. Just be with me." His breath catches again, fingers finding yours and lacing with his own as he begins to thrust into you. His metal hand drops down between you, circling your clit quickly. He's still determined to bring you to climax with him, evident in the way his mouth drops to your nipple and bites and soothes with his tongue. His hand squeezes yours tighter. "With me," he begs, sounding breathless for the first time all day. It makes your stomach clench. "Please," he begs, still thrusting into you. 

His cock drags against you, finding the spot that makes you tremble once more. Once he does he thrusts to perfectly drag against it again and again, anglings your hips just right. He doesn't let up with his mouth alternating between your breasts, flesh hand squeezing yours tightly as if that's all that's keeping him anchored. Your free hand roams across and down his back, around his bicep, everywhere you can reach. Every nerve ending in your body comes alive at his touch, responds to him in ways you never knew possible. To say he was incredibly skilled would be, again, a gross understatement. If it weren't you on the receiving end, you would think it a little unfair that he didn't seem to be rusty at all for someone so out of practice.

And if this was him rusty? Fuck were you in trouble once he "got the hang of it." His pace quickens, teeth scraping against your nipple as he drags his mouth off to plead with you once more, even as his fingers and hips sped up, "Please, doll, m'not gonna last. Fuck. You feel so damn good. So tight around me. Please, cum for me." 

You're helpless to do anything but obey---the desperate plea of his voice, his fingers circling your clit, the way his breath teases your still wet nipples, the way his hand clenches yours tightly in the rumpled sheets, the drag of his cock over your gspot--it's all your undoing. All too much to hold back, your back arching up off the sheets to press your chest hard against his as you cum with a cry of his name. Yours is a broken groan from his throat as he follows you instantly, gripping your hand almost painfully tight as his hips slow, drawing it out as much as he can for the both of you, and then he collapses against you as gently as he can. Reverent kisses make a path up your throat, across your jaw to your lips. 

When you break away you're both panting softly, still clinging to each other even after he switches off the lamp and pulls you into the warmth of his chest. "Tomorrow," he starts, pressing kisses along your shoulder, "I'm gonna have you slow. As many times as I want, yeah?" You can feel that damned crooked smirk against your flesh and it still makes a blush rush to your cheeks, even after what you'd just done. How you're still naked and in his arms. It's impossible to fight the smile off your face, not that you care to.

"That's what I said, isn't it? You sure you can handle it?" He snorts, nips your shoulder gently. "We'll see if you're so snarky when I'm carrying you back to the quinjet because your legs don't work, sweetheart."

It's both a threat and a promise, and you can't wait to have him again. And if it means also avoiding a several mile walk back to a safe pick up point...well, that's just a bonus.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still figuring out AO3, from a writer standpoint rather than just creeping on here to read everyone else's fics. I'm not the best writer, certainly, and I'm a bit rusty---I'm gonna work on that. Particularly to make the smut parts better. You'll have to forgive me a little this time 'round, as I've not written in forever, I have twin girls and I'm currently possibly coming down with bronchitis. (I sincerely hope not because, ugh). This is for Raya though, who requested this, and I certainly hope it's decent enough that you don't regret asking me to write it! If I can come up with better I certainly shall. But if I don't post it now (at midnight, no less) I'll probably never find the figurative balls to do so. Be kind!


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